


Maybe the Best

by liamthebastard



Series: Let's Write Supernatural [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has a habit of getting into trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe the Best

The one thing Dean hated about the bunker; it always seemed cold. No matter what time of year it was outside, once you stepped in the bunker it might as well have been November. Cas, still so unused to his human body’s needs, had taken to kidnapping whatever jacket Dean happened to be wearing around the bunker to keep himself warm. Sam, of course, thought this was hilarious, so Dean tried not to let Cas do it when Sam was around. 

This week, though, he was out on a hunt with Garth, and had left Dean home to keep an eye on the baby in a trench coat. Kevin had gone with them, claiming he needed some time away from the bunker before he completely lost his mind. Dean didn’t blame them, he’d get out if he could, but he had Cas to watch, and the ex-angel still couldn’t dress himself successfully, much less go out in public. And leaving him at the bunker alone… well, it wasn’t a good idea. There were whole rooms in the bunker filled with miscellaneous junk of not natural origin. And Cas had the tendency to wander into places he wasn’t supposed to. Just the other day he’d walked in on Dean mid-shower, and it took him a few minutes to understand why he had to leave. 

“I built your body from the cells up, Dean, I do not understand why you’re so shy,” Cas had said, and Dean had just hustled him out the door so he could continue his shower in peace. But, clearly, Cas wasn’t yet ready to interact with other humans just yet.

Which meant Dean, instead of sitting in some crappy motel room while Sam did research, was plopped on the floor of one of the storage rooms, going through the boxes of not natural crap that seemed to have accumulated over many years. Cas sat across from him, patiently sorting through each box, making small notations on the pad of paper next to him when he recognized something. Dean, on the other hand, just wrote down descriptions of everything, and assumed it was all dangerous. Of course, not dangerous enough to merit the gloves Sam had left behind, but still. 

Of course, as Sam would mention multiple times after he got back, if they had just _worn_ the damn gloves, they wouldn’t have gotten into any trouble. But Dean didn’t like the gloves, didn’t like the feel of the rubbery-powdery crap against his skin. It felt weird, and he wasn’t going to wear them. And because he wouldn’t wear them, Cas wouldn’t either. So they sat in silence, sorting through various relics until Cas cried out in pain.

Dean looked up, startled, as Cas shoved his index finger into his mouth, instinctually trying to soothe the injury. “Cas, are you okay?” Dean asked. He looked fine, but who knew what this crap could do to you. 

“Yes, Dean I am-” Cas broke off again with a shout as he curled in on himself. Dean stood and rushed to crouch by him, placing an arm around Cas’s shoulders when it looked like he was going to fall over. Immediately, Cas leaned into his arms, giving Dean some of his weight. 

“Cas, man, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong,” Dean said firmly. Cas nodded and took a shuddering breath, holding a hand against his ribs as if he had a wound there.

Cas gestured towards the open box, and Dean leaned over to see what he had been inspecting before all this started. Inside was, among other things, a vase, a knife, and one slightly bloody ring. Dean moved to pick it up, but before he could, Cas winced, and Dean realized that he needed to help his friend immediately. The ring could wait. Cas needed him. 

“Alright, buddy,” Dean said, moving his arm from Cas’s shoulders to firmly brace around his waist. “We’re gonna have to stand up now. C’mon.” And with coaxing words, step by step, they made it from the storage room to Dean’s bedroom, which was the nearest place Dean knew that Cas could rest. 

Dean helped settle Cas in on the bed, but the second he took his hands away, Cas shouted again, his hands flying to his stomach as he curled up on his side. “I- I think it gets worse-” Cas panted “when you aren’t touching me.” And as stupid as it sounded, Dean immediately knew he was right. He settled his hands onto Cas’s shoulder. But it didn’t seem to be enough. Cas was still shaking, and Dean could tell he was hiding most of his pain so Dean wouldn’t see it.

So Dean swallowed the small amount of pride he had and slid down onto the bed behind Cas, being careful to keep his hands on the man at all times, until Cas was pressed back against him and there was no space between them. For comfort’s sake –and no other reason, thank you- Dean wrapped his arms around Cas until they met over his stomach. Cas’s hands were still curled into fists, but the longer they laid like that, quiet and unmoving, the more and more he relaxed. 

Dean felt when the last of the tension leaves Cas’s body and the man went completely boneless against him. A few minutes later, Cas’s gentle snores filled the room. Dean lost track of how long they laid there; he felt completely at peace, a feeling he didn’t normally get, and he wanted to relish it. 

When Sam came back, it must’ve been in the early hours of the morning, because he nudged the door to Dean’s room open like he was afraid of waking his brother. Dean didn’t dare move from his position for fear of hurting Cas, but he whispered for Sam to come around the bed so they could talk over the hunt. 

“So how did it go?” Dean asked quietly. Sam shrugged.

“Garth’s cool, it wasn’t too hard. Just a few vamps, we had it wrapped up pretty quick. What- ah, what’d you and Cas do?” Sam asked, like he really didn’t want to know.

“Cas got himself into trouble. Something from the storage room. If we aren’t in contact, he acts like he just got stabbed, and says he feels like it too,” Dean explained. Sam looked weirdly disappointed. “What’s with the pout, Sammy?”

“Nothing,” Sam denied, but Dean leveled his best big brother stare at him and he caved. “I just thought Cas had finally made his move is all.” And Dean kicked the stare up another notch, trying to figure out what the hell his brother was talking about. “Dean. C’mon. The guy looks at you like you hung the moon. He rebelled against Heaven for you. And when he fell, he walked something like ten miles to find _you_. Even your emotionally stunted self should be able to put it together.” But apparently Dean still looked confused, because Sam came out and said it. “Cas is in love with you, Dean. And from what I’ve seen, you’re in love with him too.”

Before Dean could say anything –and really, what would he have said?- Cas stirred a little in his sleep, making small noises as he did. Sam grinned as Dean went completely still, hoping Cas wouldn’t wake up. The man hadn’t been sleeping well at all, seeing as he still wasn’t used to _needing_ sleep. Sam smirked and waved as he left Dean’s room, presumably heading for his own. 

Cas rolled a bit in his sleep, and Dean maneuvered his arms so they kept in contact while Cas flipped until they were facing each other. Then Cas simply nuzzled forward, pressing his face to Dean’s chest before he made a content sound and settled down. Dean pulled Cas a little closer, thinking over what Sam had said. And as Cas made his little snuffling-snore sounds against his chest, Dean realized it might not be the worst thing in the world if Cas was in love with him.

It might actually be the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Do we know what affected Cas? No! Do we care? No!


End file.
